If there is one last scrap of significance to be extracted from the return to Wimbledon today after 33 years of a monarch not altogether in love with tennis, it might be that the Queen will so disrupt the mood on Centre Court that Andy Murray will lose the plot.

He has thought about it.

"It shouldn't [change things] when I am out there because it is my job to focus and be able to concentrate to put those sort of things to the back of [my] mind," he said last night.

"But you never know. It might change the atmosphere, I don't know. It is all hypothetical. I will just have to deal with whatever happens when I am out there."

Murray is a complex character, as are most gifted athletes. He is beyond argument the face of British tennis – even if some pockets of British tennis have not always embraced the independent Scot the way they did the England-friendly Tim Henman – but concomitant with such unwanted celebrity is an obligation for an essentially shy young man to perform.

There is little evidence in his résumé that he has succumbed to stage fright – quite the opposite, in fact – but Centre Court at Wimbledon in front of the Queen, with the audience desperate for the last Brit standing to at least reach the weekend, is a pretty big stage.

Across the net will be Jarkko Nieminen, a decent but hardly intimidating opponent whom the crowd will expect to do nothing more than play a walk-on part, take a bow then return to Finland and watch the rest of the tournament on television. As the similarly disregarded Colombian Alejandro Falla reminded the No1 seed, Roger Federer, on the same court for a couple of fraught hours on Monday, it is dangerous to make such assumptions of outsiders.

And Murray, galvanised by Federer's close call, says the 67th-ranked Nieminen, an awkward left-hander who has stayed inside the top 100 for nine years, will provide stiffer opposition than did Jan Hajek in his three fairly straightforward sets in the first round on Court One on Tuesday, when the Scot's form flooded back, washing away memories of too many uneven showings the past few months.

Murray is aware there is insurrection in the air at Wimbledon (at least on the court). The third seed, Novak Djokovic, was delayed under lights until 11pm on the first night, the latest finish in the history of the tournament, by the stubborn resistance of Olivier Rochus, ranked 66th in the world and a Belgian probably less threatening than Justine Henin or Kim Clijsters; the talented but skittish seventh seed, Nikolay Davydenko, spent four hours and 21 minutes shifting the 94th-ranked South African Kevin Anderson in five sets.

"The tour is so strong now," Murray observed, "and I say almost every week that you can't look ahead in the draw. [Monday] was a perfect example of that because Roger was very, very close to going out and Novak was down a break in the fifth and struggling, so you need to be switched on right from the start."

Murray respects Nieminen, whom he beat easily in their only two meetings, in 2006 and 2007.

"He is a lefty, which makes him tricky. His serve is not that big but he does everything well. He has got good returns and is solid at the back of the court. He moves well. He has a lot of experience. He has played a lot of big matches in his career so I wouldn't expect the occasion to get to him."

There speaks a well-prepared professional.

It is absurd that a second-round match should be dressed up as a final, almost, but this story grew legs the moment the Queen put Wimbledon in her diary for 24 June.

To bow or not to bow, what to say, how to dress: these are anachronisms promoted solely by the curiosity and mischief of journalists with nothing better to write about. Most sensible people – including the Queen, impeccable royal sources assure the Guardian – care little for such trifles of etiquette.

In fact, her favourite newspaper, the Daily Telegraph, reported a year ago that she was quite happy to scrap the custom of her equerries having to back out of the room in her presence because it contravened European health and safety rules.

Absurd as all this is, it is unlikely Murray cares much about it and will not have given it even a cursory thought until persistent questioning manoeuvred him into a position where he has to appear respectful. He is an astute player in the media game, and he knows that if he feeds them what they want, they will leave him alone – at least for a while. If there is one person in the realm who knows how he feels it is the woman who will be sitting, bored rigid most likely, in the royal box today.

Yes, you are still on the sports pages, so let's put this treatise on obsequiousness to bed with one final observation. At 84, the Queen doesn't get out as much as she used to, nor does she like sitting in one place for too long any more, sources reveal.

So a drawn-out match today will leave her unamused. That's incentive of sorts for Murray.